EPISODE #2012-141 Part #1

“Because,” Sarah told Grant
as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

She flashed him a quick, joyful
smile, then promptly turned around and scurried out the bedroom door,
her hair bouncing cheerily down the back of Grant’s borrowed dress
shirt.

He’d raised his head to pose
the question regarding why Sarah was doing all this for him. Now,
Grant sunk into the pillow, breathless, speechless, checkered flashes
of yellow and black squares jiggling in front of his eyes (the phlebotomist
had warned him it might be a symptom of low blood pressure, but Grant
felt certain it couldn’t be anything so simple), feeling shaken and
overwhelmed. And desperately, desperately happy.

He wanted to say the words
back, to shout them after her, to climb out of bed and follow Sarah
downstairs, and tell her… everything.

No. Not now. Not
like this.

Under no circumstances was
Grant going to tell Sarah he loved her too while feeling so feeble,
so useless, so… old.

She deserved more. Sarah
deserved to hear from Grant when he was fully fit, so no one might be
able to dismiss the proclamation as merely the befuddled result of his
weakened condition, or a reaction of instinctive gratitude in the moment.

Sarah deserved to hear Grant
declare his love for her with no distractions, no extenuating circumstances,
no opportunity for misunderstanding.

He’d promised to take care
of her, and Grant still intended to, in every way.

He closed his eyes and smiled,
biding his time by permitting himself the bliss of wallowing in the
sensual thrill of anticipation.

Jamie settled a bowl of unadorned
oatmeal on the tray in front of a propped up Kirkland’s hospital bed,
and handed him a spoon. “Keep this down,” he promised.
“And we may go crazy, let you have a sip of ginger ale, next.”

“Better stand back,” Kirkland
warned.

“I’ll risk it.”

Jamie watched carefully as
his son gingerly scooped some cereal onto his spoon, brought it stiffly
to his mouth, and took a miniscule bite, swallowing cautiously, then
waiting to test the results.

“It doesn’t taste like
anything.”

“That was the idea.”

Kirkland tried the remainder
of the serving. “It’s… okay. I think.”

“Good.”

Kirkland dug in with a bit
more enthusiasm, realizing he was actually starving and that tasteless
oatmeal tasted pretty damn good right about now.

“How’s Grant doing?”
he asked.

“Alright, I hear.”
Jamie declined to mention that the person he’d heard it from, was
Sarah. With everything else going on in his life, Grant’s…
unexpected relationship with his former stepson’s former girlfriend
was the least of Jamie’s concerns. And he didn’t need it to
be Kirkland’s, either. “I told him to come see you tomorrow
morning, after he gets his strength back.”

“Was it dangerous what he
did? Giving blood to me?”

“Under most circumstances,
no. Giving blood isn’t dangerous. But, Grant gave way
too much than is considered medically advisable. His body needs
time to recover, same as yours.”

“Do you think he did it,
you know, on purpose?”

Jamie cocked his head.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Grant… whenever
Grant does something, especially something good, there’s usually an
angle,” Kirkland repeated what he’d heard most of his life – and
what he’d learned the hard way, recently. His voice a combination
of cynical bravado, mixed with the fervent desire that maybe this time,
this time, it might not be true.

“He did it for you, Kirk,”
Jamie felt confident in reassuring once he’d figured out what his
son was really asking. “No angles, no hidden agendas.
He did it for you.”

“I honestly don’t think
that’s what was going through Grant’s mind as he did it. Russ
said you needed a transfusion; the blood bank was running low. I
couldn’t do it. Maybe Steven… But, Grant stepped up.
He did it automatically and… and about as selflessly as anyone could.
It’s like with Spencer earlier. They’d do anything to keep
you safe.”

“I don’t know how many
more times I can do this,” Kirkland confessed. “Let Grant
into my life, then have him disappoint me. It’s… it’s like
it’s not even a merry-go-round with him. It’s a seesaw, you
know?”

“I do,” Jamie said.
“And I understand. And all I can tell you is: Since you can’t
change Grant, maybe it’s a matter of adjusting your expectations.
Instead of expecting him to be the father he always promises, but never
quite hits the target on, you might consider just letting Grant be Grant.
And working from there.”

“I never thought I’d hear
you taking his side.”

“I’m on your side, Kirk.
Always. You know that. And quite frankly, right now I am
so relieved to see you sitting up, eating that disgusting hospital oatmeal
– “

“You promised ginger ale
if I could keep it down! Look!”

“ – I am willing to overlook
a great many things I was incapable of overlooking before.”

“You think I should give
Grant another chance?”

“Honestly, you’re almost
a man now, son. You’re not a kid anymore. Especially not
after everything you’ve been through. I think maybe it’s time
you stopped giving Grant chances, and just work on forming a relationship
that works for you both. As adults.”

“So… we should be, what?
Drinking buddies?”

“Let’s not get carried
away. I’m still your father. And you’re still underage.”

“Okay, then. Am I supposed
to let Grant be my wingman for the prom?”

Jamie briefly recalled the
age of Grant’s latest conquest, and repressed a shudder at the possibilities.
“You might start with… friends. The bar is set lower than
for parent.”

“Yeah…” Kirkland chewed
over the suggestion. “I guess…”

“Okay.” Jamie pulled
up a chair to sit next to Kirkland’s bed, smiling. “Enough
with the wise fatherly advice.”

“Oh, no, I’ve got it well-hidden.
No one’s taking that out surgically.”

“I do have a question to
ask you.” Jamie hesitated, then plunged ahead, hoping to ride
on the fumes of their previously easygoing mood. “Kirk, we need
to know, for the police report, and some other paperwork – What happened?
How did you lose control of the car like that?”

Kirkland hesitated, he ducked
his father’s eyes, and he mumbled, “I – I don’t remember.”

“What are you doing back
here?” Jeanne hissed in surprise at the sight of Dean.

“Well, please pass on the
message if you see them. I’m sorry she had to be involved.”

“How’s Lorna?” Morgan
blurted out, having promised himself he’d play it cool. Learning
– to no one’s surprise – that he seemed unable to.

“Alright. She’s home
with Devon now.”

“Good. She needs to
take it easy. With the new baby and everything…”

“I’m trying to get her
to take care of herself. It’s… challenging.”

“Yeah. That’s Lorna,
alright.”

Jamie nodded, neither one really
having anything to say beyond the obvious.

Not that it stopped Morgan.
“I miss her,” he said simply. “Even more than I thought
I would. It’s one thing if you don’t speak for months, but
you know if you need to, you always can. This way, I think of
something I want to say… and then I remember.”

“You’re up early,” John
addressed Donna the next morning, stunned to see her standing by the
curb, supervising as a convoy of vans filed past at a snails’ pace
while a small army of bulky men in even bulkier winter jackets filled
them with bags of clothes, objects of art, and even furniture.
“Going on a little trip?”

“You could say that.”
Donna refused to tear her eyes from the procession.

“Wait a second. You’re
not… moving, are you?”

“What would be the point?”
Donna wondered. “Wherever I went, there I’d still be.”

“What’s going on, then?”

“Out with the old, in with
the new. Isn’t that what the recent holiday was all about?”

“Something tells me this
isn’t just a whim to redecorate.”

“Do you realize, John, that
some wings of that mausoleum behind us,” she indicated the Love mansion.
“Haven’t been touched since the days of Reginald stomping about?”

“Ah. So we’re talking
exorcism, here. Good for you!”

“Do you think it’s something
in the air?” Donna wondered. “That actually breathing the
same air he did is enough to muddle one’s mind to the point where
the unthinkable becomes… logical?”

“Air, gene pool, habit.
What difference does it make? We all still have free will.”

“Then why is my daughter
following in my footsteps? Why do my grandchildren look at me
the same way I looked at Reginald? Why, even when I try my best,
when I resolve to walk the straight and narrow, is it still so damn
easy for me to drift off course?”

Donna indicated a family portrait:
Reginald, Donna, Peter, and Nicole done in oil. “If I never
see that smirking face again…”

“You should have done this
ages ago,” John advised.

“I’m afraid there’s a
long list of things I should have done ages ago,” Donna sighed.

“Me, too,” John said and,
before he had the chance to reconsider, grabbed Donna, kissing her in
full view of the hired men. And painted Reginald.

“Kirkland…?” Carl asked
in rising terror at the sight of his wife’s devastated visage once
she finally made it home from the hospital.

“Is going to be fine,”
Rachel reassured him.

“Thank goodness,” he exhaled
in relief, before realizing, “Then why do you seem so…”

“I thought I could do this,”
she confessed, broken. “I thought I could obey my children’s
wishes, stay away from them until all three came to their senses and
realized what a futile cause it was, trying to separate me from you.”

“And you’ve done it.
Surely, you don’t consider rushing to be by Jamie’s side a slip
in our strategy? This was an aberration, a necessary bending of
your resolve – “

“Jamie didn’t want me there,”
Rachel said. “He said… he said he didn’t want to get
into it with me.”

“Jamie was in shock,” Carl
dismissed her concerns as hardly meriting discussion. “His son
was battling for his life. Who takes seriously the word of a soul
in such dire straits?”

“I made it worse, Carl.
My being there made my son’s already excruciating burden even worse.”

“Impossible.”

“Amanda said as much to me.”

“Ah,” Carl sighed, happy
to finally be at the crux of the matter. Jamie’s perceived grief
and subsequent rejection he could do nothing to assuage Rachel’s concern
over. But, Amanda and her petty vengeance…. “Amanda, of course.
Not Jamie, at all. Amanda.”

“Amanda was the one who had
to point out to me that I was hurting my son just by being around him.”

“Amanda,” Carl reminded,
not even vaguely amused. “Has an agenda where you and I are
concerned.”

“You think I don’t know
that? You think I didn’t call her on that?”

“Then I don’t understand
what the subsequent issue could possibly be.”

“She wasn’t wrong, Carl.
She may have had selfish, manipulative reasons for drawing my attention
to the situation, but she was not wrong. I ran to Jamie so I could
be there for him, comfort him – I’m his mother!”

“And that is precisely what
you did. Despite the cruel and callous manner in which he’d
treated you only a few weeks prior. You deserve to be commended
for your actions, not condemned. If anything, you were the paragon
of selfless motherhood.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow at
Carl’s flowery language, but now was neither the time nor the place
to suggest he dial the histrionics down a notch; they weren’t on stage
at the Old Vic. “Jamie had Kirkland in the operating room, Steven
near-nervous breakdown in the waiting area, Grant breathing down his
neck, a pregnant Lorna refusing to so much as take a seat… He was
getting hit from all sides.”

“All the more reason to count
his blessings at having you there to help keep the peace.”

“I was the last person Jamie
needed to see.”

“According to Amanda!”

“According to Jamie.
He didn’t want to get into it. He didn’t need one more
thing to worry about, one more painful thing to remember. He looked
at me, and he saw you. You and your role in Kirkland’s kidnapping.
Can you honestly say my presence was in any way helpful to my son last
night?”

“Neither you nor I hold any
sway over what thoughts flit through Jamie’s mind at a given time,”
Carl countered stiffly. “If his break with you were truly as
painful to Jamie as you seem to believe, then the logical thing for
him to do under the circumstances would have been to accept the olive
branch you so magnanimously stretched forward to him.”

“Now who’s the one being
manipulative?” Rachel wondered. “And self-serving?”

“Amanda has never approved
of our marriage,” Carl ignored her query to focus on the facts.
“My goodness, have you forgotten that ridiculous Hadley Prescott masquerade
of hers, trying to make you think I was cheating with some mystery tart
– “

“This isn’t comparable.”

“Perhaps not in means –
our Amanda has thankfully refined her approach over the years; huzzah
for her! But, certainly in motive.”

“Would you please just listen
to me, Carl!” Rachel exploded, exasperated. “This isn’t
about Amanda. It isn’t even about Jamie, in the end. Or
Matt, or my grandchildren. It’s about me. I thought I
could stay away for the time that it took them to get over these respective
snits of theirs.”

“Thank heavens you at least
recognize that much.”

“But, it turns out, I…
can’t.”

Carl hesitated, unable to summon
up a single flowery phrase to rebut, or even question, that. “I
– I beg your pardon?”

“I can’t do it. I
can’t bear the thought of being a source of further pain for my children.
And I can’t bear the thought of keeping my distance from them when
they’re in pain. If it were Cory and Elizabeth – “

“I told you before, Rachel,
if it were Cory and Elizabeth, I should never have let matters devolve
to such a calamitous state.”

“Fine,” she snapped, in
no mood to receive parenting lessons from a man who’d buried three
children without ever really knowing a single one of them. “Then
I’m not you. I’m not as ruthless. Or maybe I’m merely
not as strong. If my children need me, then I have to be with
them. And if it can’t be on my terms – “

“Rachel!”

“It’s going to have to
be on theirs,” she finished, despite knowing it was the last thing
he wished to hear. “I’m sorry. But, right now, Jamie
needs me more than you do. And I need to be there for him.”

“What – what does that
mean?” Carl stammered, world-famous flowing command of the English
language gone as he felt the ground shift and pull away from beneath
his feet.

“It means I love you.
I still love you as much this minute as I did the day we got married,
and every day after that. But, right now, it means I’m going
to ask you to please… I am going to ask you to move out of this house.”